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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25207498">The Black-Robed Monk Who Descended The Mountain</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSwingbyJeanHonoreFragonard/pseuds/TheSwingbyJeanHonoreFragonard'>TheSwingbyJeanHonoreFragonard</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Demons, Dystopian, Fantasy, Fictional Religion &amp; Theology, Hero's Journey, Light Angst, M/M, Martial Arts, Monks, Power Imbalance, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Urban Fantasy, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:48:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,230</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25207498</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSwingbyJeanHonoreFragonard/pseuds/TheSwingbyJeanHonoreFragonard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Taeyong had always believed that monkhood would guide him down the path to enlightenment, to divinity.</p><p>He didn't realize until it was far too late that it had only led him down the path to isolation and fear.</p><p>For the first time in a long time, he will choose his own path.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Taeyong</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>91</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Black-Robed Monk Who Descended The Mountain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I somehow got an AU like this after rewatching the Kick It MV! Hopefully you enjoy! This is a pretty fun world to write in. Maybe I'll keep it going.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Taeyong only had a vague idea about where he was supposed to be meeting the client but he figured he was in the correct place when he heard movement behind him, closer than he anticipated, and then a big hand clamped down hard on his right shoulder. Tight like a vice. He knew he was walking through the bad part of town but he thought he would at least be able to walk in peace! Taeyong didn’t pause to register the paralyzing pain coursing through his shoulder. He simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>moved</span>
  </em>
  <span>. On instinct. On twenty long years of practice and training. He reached around with his left hand and gripped the offending wrist tight. It barely made his attacker loosen up. Taeyong twisted out of the big guy’s grip, making his attacker squeal as the tendons in his wrist pulled taut. Taeyong ducked beneath a flailing arm and stepped away from the man’s weak, sideways kick, then Taeyong lunged forward and shot a knee straight up into the guy’s gut.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man choked. Air spilled out of his mouth in a silent scream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong focused. Meditated. Eyes open but not quite seeing. Not quite registering the neon signs reflected in the puddles of murky rainwater up and down the street around them. Taeyong calmed his mind and gathered his ki. The heat of the spiritual energy rose up from the center of his chest and sizzled in his veins like fuel. He dragged the man around until they were facing each other, ready to punch him </span>
  <em>
    <span>just one time</span>
  </em>
  <span> because that would be all it would take, but-- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” the man grunted out. He held up his free hand in surrender. “Now hold on! Hold on!” He sank to the pavement on his knees, wheezing. Coughing up spit. Straining against Taeyong’s grip still tight on his wrist. “I ain’t mean to scare ya. I ain’t trynna start a fight.” When he realized Taeyong still had him by the arm, that Taeyong still had a hand folded into a fist, the man looked up at him, big eyes even bigger with panic. “I don’t-- I don’t know my own strength sometimes. I’m sorry!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No use fighting an opponent with no fighting spirit. Taeyong let him go and the man all but toppled face forward onto the rain-slick sidewalk, clutching his sore wrist. It was clear he harbored no ill will. No violent intentions. It had all been an unfortunate mistake. Taeyong expelled his anger and quieted his ki. Then he wiped his palms across the front of his black monastery robe, the silken fabric damp from his walk through the rain. “You shouldn’t have come at me from behind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man nodded, properly scolded. “My fault. I ain’t know how else to get your attention.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A whistle. A ‘hey.’ A fingersnap. There were a dozen other methods that would have been more effective and less hostile than wordlessly grabbing someone on a dark street. Taeyong decided not to say any of those things. It had been months since anyone, especially someone who hadn’t trained alongside him at the monastery, had been successful in sneaking up on him. Taeyong opted for a compliment. “You move quiet to be such a big guy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man recovered his composure. “I was taught to fight. It’s the only way to live on streets like these.” He waved a hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong glanced around. The two of them were on a quiet side street, away from the late night noise of people and bustling traffic, but the inner city still pulsed with light and movement. The echoes of a couple’s argument floated down to them from an open apartment window. Someone’s now-ruined laundry swung soaking wet on the clothesline a story or two above their heads. Music thumped loudly from a vehicle passing by a block over. Farther away, an ambulance siren wailed. The dumpsters were overflowing and the rank stench they emitted only seemed amplified in the midsummer post-rain humidity. Blue and orange and yellow lights lit up nearly every window in the buildings up and down the street but half that light didn’t reach the shadowy alleys between shops and apartments. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neo Seoul could be beautiful when she wanted to be. She didn’t want to be beautiful tonight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you…” The man on the ground said, yanking back Taeyong’s attention, “you can fight too, I guess.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a compliment, Taeyong supposed, but it was almost an insult to hear it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You can fight too, I guess.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong had been orphaned when he was young. A car accident he could no longer remember. Back then, he’d been too young to truly process the pain of the injuries he sustained, let alone the loss of his family, but according to the government, he’d been old enough to be told he could pick his new home. Then he had been given a choice between the mountaintop monastery, the church-run orphanage or the army barracks. Taeyong had taken one look at the row of calm, black-clad men with shaved heads and steepled hands and the boy had chosen them without hesitation. Without giving the nuns or soldiers a second look. Taeyong had given his body and mind and spirit to the monastery since that day, being taught the ways to sew good karma, honing his martial arts and cultivating his ki-harnessing capabilities. For over two decades, he studied diligently, even as the monastery steadily emptied as more and more practitioners hung up their robes in favor of returning to modern city life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong had sacrificed meaningless material things like wealth and possessions in pursuit of true discipline. He had sacrificed his childhood and stripped himself of the memories that tied him to the family he no longer had. If it weighed even an ounce on his shoulders or on his mind or in his spirit, he discarded it in pursuit of enlightenment. As he had been taught. Even food and water became things he no longer required. And now, his entire body was a weapon - only to be used to defend, never to attack - so to have his life of training and skill be swept out of sight like dust beneath a rug with an </span>
  <em>
    <span>I guess </span>
  </em>
  <span>from some street thug just about ruined Taeyong’s pride.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But pride, however damaged, was a nasty, prickly thing that served no purpose on the road to inner peace. It held no meaning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Taeyong discarded what remained of his.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who are you,” he asked flatly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A friend,” the man said quickly. “Not an enemy. I swear.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Be specific,” Taeyong said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man pulled himself up to his feet. He was taller and bigger than Taeyong first assumed, which made how quickly he went down that much more amusing. “I don’t mean no harm,” he drawled. Despite his crass speech, despite how deep into the slums this neighborhood was, the man was decently dressed with the muscle and weight of someone who had no shortage of food. Either this man hadn’t actually grown up on these streets or he’d very recently been rescued from them. With the same beefy hand he’d clamped down on Taeyong’s shoulder, the man carded his fingers through his dark, wet hair and pushed the locks away from his forehead. “My name is Johnny. And you must be the monk they called for.” He openly looked Taeyong up and down, taking in the sight of Taeyong’s buzzed short hair, his dirtied and bare and calloused feet, his torn black pants cinched at the ankles. Taking in the sight of the ceremonial sword tied to his narrow hips with white cloth, at the black robe that had come undone in their tussle and revealed Taeyong’s thin but toned torso beneath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong allowed himself to be gawked at. “Yes, I am the monk sent to handle the request of the twins.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny’s face scrunched up. “It’s… It’s been a few days since we’ve sent the request.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And it takes a few days to descend the mountain,” Taeyong shot back, with more anger in his spirit than he should have ever allowed. Sensing that, he exhaled from his diaphragm, calmed himself and tried again. “Has his condition worsened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To that, Johnny nodded. “The curse has reached his throat.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong accepted the knowledge with a slow nod and a long, low hum. If the curse had progressed to such levels, then the man had already been in dire straits when the request was mailed to the monastery. Even if Taeyong had rushed his 127,000 step journey from the top of the mountain to its base, he would still be running out of time. But instead of saying any of that, he asked again, “Who are you? A name is not enough.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny put a hand across his chest like he was saluting or swearing an oath. “I am the Paladin. It is now my sworn duty to guard the oracles.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Had traditions changed so rapidly since Taeyong’s school lessons at the monastery? Could </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> take on the trials and become a Paladin for the future-seers? Perhaps more time had passed on the mountaintop than Taeyong had been told. The whole world had changed so drastically. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny hastily added the tail end of his story. “I’m the only one left.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong tried not to snort when he questioned, “Only one Paladin for the two of them?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny laughed. His cheeks went red with out-of-place bashfulness. “I’m usually enough for the two of them.” Johnny met Taeyong’s eye. “But I suppose I can still get my ass beat if I’m up against someone I ain’t ready for.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As compelling a conversation as this was, Taeyong wasn’t here for small talk. The letter that had arrived at the monastery a week and a half ago had claimed the case was urgent. Taeyong said, “Show him to me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His sudden seriousness wiped the smile from Johnny’s face. As if he, too, had just remembered how precarious of a situation he stood in. “This way.” He motioned with a hand farther up the street but when Taeyong did not move, Johnny cleared his throat, stepped around Taeyong and then led the way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They walked slowly, despite how little time they had left. Taeyong didn’t question their pace. He didn’t ask how much farther they had to go and he did not remind the man of how integral to breaking the curse even these few minutes were. He merely followed Johnny’s towering frame, keeping his palms pressed together in front of his chest as he walked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He kept his mind blank. He kept his spirit clear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bars and nightclubs were still open even at that time of night and, occasionally, the glass doors flew open and patrons and party-goers came stumbling out into the street. Dressed in their fanciest, their gaudiest, their most revealing. Sometimes in small, noisy, laughing clusters. Most of the time alone and drunk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A block farther, a young woman seated on the stoop outside of an apartment building did not bother to hide how openly she glared at Taeyong through the clouds of her cigarette smoke. She examined his ragged, dirty clothes and his exposed torso. Her face was contorted in a sneer, but whatever insult she had on the tip of her tongue was quieted by the sight of the sword at Taeyong’s hip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The meaning of the black monk robes had lost its significance among the urban populace over the years but, no matter what people did or didn’t believe in these days, a sharp weapon would always be a sharp weapon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keeping a close watch over their shoulders to make sure they weren’t being followed, Johnny finally brought them to a halt outside of a shabby-looking detached home that not only looked moments from collapsing inwards on itself, it also looked like no place to house the twin oracles. Johnny glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of the disapproving look on Taeyong’s face before he got the chance to hide it. Johnny said, “It’s necessary. Closer to the center of the city, the gangs take over more and more uptown buildings every day. Banks, food storage facilities, distribution centers… There’s no stopping them with the government this fragile. The gangs… They show up on their bikes, wave their guns around and just seat themselves in town halls and courthouses.” He took a deep, heaving breath to steady himself before looking away from Taeyong and staring up at the old house. “As a Paladin, I am tasked with protecting the twins. And since I am the only one left, it’s my call, right? And I firmly believe that there’s no safer place than these streets. So this is where I keep them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong gave the ramshackle house a second look. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A tiny little spark of a memory floated back to him, before the car accident, before his life at the monastery, and very briefly, Taeyong wondered if he grew up in a house like this on a street like this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he looked back over at Johnny, he could more easily see the clash between Johnny’s fight-scarred skin and the yellow, embroidered finery of the Paladins. He took his time to examine the bulge of Johnny’s muscles. The carved bulk of him. The Paladin garb clearly hadn’t been customized to fit someone of his height, but the man’s martial arts training hung on his body like jewelry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny said, “If I could take them somewhere more luxurious, I would… But with these gangs out in droves, it would be like climbing to the top of a tower that’s about to go tumbling down. That’s why we’re here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As long as they are safe,” Taeyong stated drily. But it felt odd saying the word ‘safe’ when one of the twins was so close to succumbing to his curse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Long as they’re safe,” Johnny repeated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His singsong accent was still something Taeyong couldn’t quite place. From down south by the ocean? Then again, Taeyong only remembered the mountain. There was much about the world he did not know.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny approached the house, fished a ring of keys from his pants and used one of the larger ones to unlock the house’s front door. At some point, it had been painted blue, but age had faded it to a light, patchwork gray. “Donghyuck,” he called into the darkness of the house. “Haechan! I’m back. I have the monk. He’s here to help.” Then he turned around to look at Taeyong as if to go ‘you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> the monk, right?’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wordlessly, Taeyong ascended the stone stairs and stepped across the threshold into the dimly-lit house. It was hot inside. Stuffy. And so full of books and boxes and small appliances and furniture and crates and tool shelves that the already small space became that much more claustrophobic. What surprised Taeyong the most, though, was catching sight of the small, wooden figurine that sat on a wobbly table near the front door. A small piece of something old and spiritual in a place overrun with the modern, expensive and useless. The wooden figurine was carved into the shape of a dog with lightning bolts for whiskers and storm clouds for fur, the sun itself squeezed between its sharp fangs as the dog stood poised and ready to leap into the sky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny and Taeyong both reached for the dog’s head simultaneously and their fingers collided.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m real sorry ‘bout that,” Johnny said. His booming voice was too loud in the cramped foyer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The luck is shared,” stated Taeyong, then, realizing they were still touching, he retracted his hand. “Statues of Doyu used to stand guard outside every home.” People used to leave small bowls of food outside. It was said that in the wee hours of the morning, the statues would come alive and eat the food for strength. It took a lot of energy to run the sun from one end of the sky to the other every day. But with less and less statues outside, less offerings being made, that would explain why the nights lasted so long now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Most of us just keep Doyu inside now,” said Johnny. He dropped his hand from the dog’s head and then turned away from it slowly, almost as if he feared letting the little statue out of his sight. “Both the government and the gangs have big problems with such symbols nowadays.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the past, the monks had more actively participated in protecting the city. Not necessarily enforcing laws or fighting criminals, but safeguarding what the city </span>
  <em>
    <span>meant</span>
  </em>
  <span>. As a place. The monks helped clean up after fires and floods and earthquakes. They picked up litter in parks and used their own supplies to build houses for the poor. Shielded the disenfranchised. All without accepting material gifts. But as politicians lost social power and the gangs with their roaring cavalry of war bikes eagerly stepped in with their own wicked, violent ideals, the monks found it harder and harder to remain neutral in the brewing civil war. The monks had always fought to defend, never to attack, but even with a monk’s sublime training, it was near-impossible to defend against bullets. So the monks retreated to their monasteries, fewer and fewer in number, and only came down the mountain when called upon. No longer offering a helping hand first.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They must not be able to hear me.” Johnny raised his voice. “Donghyuck! Haechan!” When he still received no response, he gestured for Taeyong to follow him deeper into the residence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rest of the house was as Taeyong expected from the foyer. Uncomfortably warm. Uncomfortably cluttered. Stocked with canned food, clothing and supplies like they expected to survive a natural disaster here. It dawned on Taeyong that the Paladin and his oracles had turned this dilapidated place into a fortified fortress by filling it with everything they needed to minimize their trips outside these four walls. They were preparing for the worst and Taeyong could only hope he would be halfway back up the mountain before ‘the worst’ happened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Donghyuck!” Johnny’s voice cracked. Genuine worry clouded his tone. “Haechan!” He flung open a door but didn’t find them inside the darkened room. He shouted again, “Donghyuck!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop yelling,” came a sharp voice from farther inside the house. “You woke him up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny heaved a sigh of relief. He slumped his shoulders and all but collapsed against the wall. Then he stood himself back up and gestured with his hand, turned to lead Taeyong into one of the rooms near the back end of the house. To the disembodied voice, he said, “I needed to wake him up. The monk is here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure,” the melodic voice from the other side of the room asked. “You’ve been walking the streets for the last few days looking for them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They just arrived. See for yourself,” Johnny said. He stepped to the side, out of Taeyong’s way, and gave the monk a chance to cross the room on his own.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong stepped forward cautiously. He didn’t even have to focus to feel the horrid murkiness of the curse in the air, to taste the miasma on his tongue. This was dark, salty, heavy stuff. Nothing casual or light or accidental. This was a deliberate murder attempt. “Do you know how he encountered the curse?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not at all,” Johnny said. He bowed his head forlornly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One of the twins added, “He didn’t bother to tell us until the rot had already reached his waist.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong swallowed hard, steeled his resolve and stepped forward more confidently. As long as he was here, that murder attempt would be nothing more than an</span>
  <em>
    <span> attempt</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “What is your name,” Taeyong asked the red-haired man lying on the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Haechan,” said the young man standing next to the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong hadn’t been speaking to him. He stared down at the man on the bed and repeated, “Name?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took him several seconds but he could eventually croak out the syllables, “Donghyuck.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good. You still know your name. There is still time.” With one hand, Taeyong peeled the monk robes off of his bony shoulders, pulled them down his arms and tossed the wet fabric to the floor. With his bare torso exposed to the swampy-humid air, he could better feel the churning current of the rotten magic. “I will now remove your curse.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just like that?” Haechan asked from next to the bed. He furrowed his eyebrows and scrunched up his face almost suspiciously. “You’re going to do it just like that? You aren’t going to make impossible demands like all the others?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The others? Probably scammers and charlatans preying on the weak and desperate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I swear to you, I have no need for money or fame or any favors,” Taeyong replied. “And I will refuse any gifts, no matter how small.” With a firmer voice, he said, “step away from the bed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He expected sass or backtalk but the twin named Haechan obediently crossed the room to stand at Johnny’s side, out of the way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong stared down at the oracle twin named Donghyuck. To think that only four or five years ago, the twins would have been the most valuable people in the city. Protected. Revered. Almost worshipped. An entire city hanging off their every word and prediction. But Taeyong had long ago learned that value was malleable, changeable, subjective, and that even the most precious treasures could be thrown away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And these two had been thrown away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you stand,” Taeyong asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Long moments of struggle passed, and Taeyong was not allowed to offer help, but Donghyuck found the strength to sit up, crawl to the edge of the bed and stand up on his own two feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Good. The path would be clearer that way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong took a step back, grabbed hold of his ceremonial sword by its elegantly carved handle and drew the blade from the sash that held it at his hip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Haechan screeched from behind him. “Back off. Don’t hurt him! Don’t--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong heard Johnny physically restrain the boy. “I will not hurt him,” the monk spoke, not taking his eyes off the hardened edges of the magic that curled and uncurled beneath Donghyuck’s skin. “I will only cleave the curse from him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donghyuck and Haechan were twins, yes, but more than that, they were near-perfect reflections of each other. Not so much two stars but a single star, identically duplicated. They had the same wide, fierce eyes. The same pointy nose. The same unnaturally bright hair. Tinted red like jewels. Like rubies. They had the same sharp cupid’s bow and small, pink mouth. Even the constellations of tiny moles on their necks and faces seemed to be placed in identical positions, merely mirrored. Even the simple white sleep clothes they wore were the same. Of course, the one significant difference between them was that Haechan still possessed a healthy, bronze glow to his skin while beads of sweat dotted Donghyuck’s forehead. He looked pale. Ashen. Ghastly. His washed-out skin in stark contrast to the deep purple swirls of rotten magic that danced across his body like a living, moving tattoo.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny had not lied. The curse stretched from Donghyuck’s toes up to his neck. The dark coloring was like a bruise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If Taeyong had been even six hours later, the curse would have consumed the boy. Turned him into a Nightmare.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do not move.” Taeyong’s command was just as much for Johnny and Haechan as it was for Donghyuck, who stood on wobbly legs before him. “I will now begin,” he said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Haechan tried to say something, tried to scream something, but Johnny held him back. Quieted him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With the distraction dealt with, Taeyong focused. He fell into the necessary trance with heavily practiced ease.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gathered his ki. Slowly. Gently. Drawing it up and up from his feet, from his legs, from his solar plexus. The energy sparked and sizzled in the air, fizzing above his skin like tiny strikes of lightning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Although Taeyong was deep in his concentration he still heard Johnny say, from an uncrossable distance, “He’s the real deal.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And he still heard Haechan’s choked reply, “Finally.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong resumed his ritual. He hummed and swayed back and forth, back and forth, working himself into the rhythm of his pulsing ki. Into the beat of his life energy. He unlocked another gate deep within him and felt the ki flood in from his hands, from his shoulders. It all pooled in his center. His chest burned with the magic as he stored more power but he had trained his life for this. He was beyond such trivial discomfort. He was not his body. He did not exist in such a shell. He could easily discard this form, if something called for it. He was</span>
  <em>
    <span> above</span>
  </em>
  <span> his earth-bound frame. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fluidly, his swaying evolved into a multi-step dance. His movements were graceful yet powerful like a river’s undercurrent. He pointed his toes and swung out one leg and then the other, carving half circles into the dusty floor. He reached out his arms, up to the ceiling, and bent and twisted his torso. All to empower his ki. All to unlock the final gate at his neck, at his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His humming turned into a chant, the percussive syllables of the old language bounced off his tongue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sword in his right hand almost seemed to levitate. That’s how expertly he wielded it. Slow, dizzying spins. Fast and hectic arcs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, like all monks must do with meaningless material ties, Taeyong let go of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But the sword did not go crashing to the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He balanced it on his palm, then on the back of his hand, on his arm, on his shoulder, the base of his neck. The blade spun around his body like it had grown sentient and could move on its own but, truly, it was just Taeyong’s superior balance, his complete control over himself. His total mastery of the sword that may as well have turned the blade into an additional limb.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If he could look outside himself in that moment, he would have noticed Haechan’s open-mouthed shock. He would have noticed Johnny’s wide-eyed awe. He would have noticed the tiny little tears beading up in the corners of Donghyuck’s eyes as he got lost in the beautiful display.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was good that Taeyong could not see them. Such faces would have only served to distract.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The last gate unlocked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong felt it. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>experienced</span>
  </em>
  <span> it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He drew the new source of ki down from the crown of his head and then gathered the immense energy in his chest, above his heart where it was the most dangerous and volatile but also where it was the most potent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could lose himself if he did this incorrectly. He could break himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Taeyong had trained for this. He would do this correctly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he opened his eyes, he could not only see the dull, desaturated colors and shadowy corners of the physical world, he could also see the dreamy blue glow of the spirit world. Here was the source of all life energy. The birthplace of all ki. Magic, to name it so simply. The spirit world stretched and expanded in ways the physical world could never but it also presented the true state of all things to anyone skilled enough to open their eyes. Taeyong looked around. It pained him to see how Donghyuck’s curse rotted the magic close to it, spoiling it like one bad apple spoils the whole bunch. But that was why he was here. Taeyong could see the origin of the oracle’s curse so now he could cut it free.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The curse began to respond to his presence. To the sudden appearance of so much unspoiled ki.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong felt the curse reach out to him. He could almost give the rot a face. A name.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But there was a proper order to these things. A proper balance. The steps must be done correctly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong focused on the ki burning bright and fire-hot in his chest. He grabbed hold of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Release,” he shouted. The command forced his ki outward, through his heart and up his arm and along the river-like edge of his sword.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In one swift movement, Taeyong gripped his sword in both hands and swung the weapon through Donghyuck’s neck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instantly, the curse loosened its hold. The rotten magic </span>
  <em>
    <span>spewed out</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a scream. High-pitched and awful and despondent. But even such a loud and screeching noise was but a distant, insignificant echo through Taeyong’s razor focus.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This was the part Taeyong was prepared for. The final step.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In its eternal pursuit of balance, the spirit world would not simply allow the curse to disperse into nothingness. The foul ki could only be transferred.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong was ready to accept the curse into his own body. It was his purpose. It was what he’d trained for. He would isolate himself in the monastery so that the curse would not spread and, through meditation, he could live out his days above the pain of the rotten magic until he succeeded in reaching nirvana. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But the curse was not transferring to him as it should. It was being soaked into his sword.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong attempted to pull his sword away. He tried holding it close to his chest as if to guide the curse into his body.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The curse ignored him and the rotten magic continued to sink into the ceremonial blade’s wavy, elegant shape. The curse did not travel up his arm and inhabit his body like it was supposed to. Like it </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to. Taeyong could only watch in confusion as the curse wrapped itself snuggly in his sword and then… remained there. Purposefully imprisoned itself there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With the ki dispersed, Taeyong’s foothold in the spirit world gave way beneath him like sand slipping out from beneath his toes and, almost too quickly, too precisely, he was snapped completely back into the physical world.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sucked in a deep breath. He squeezed his eyes shut to avoid the majority of the sensory overload but his senses were still bombarded as he became acclimated to his body again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could hear the twins wailing each other's names in tear-filled joy. “The sword went through your neck!” “It didn’t hurt.” “There’s no blood!” “If there was, you’d have to get cut too. To match.” Taeyong could feel Johnny’s heavy hand rubbing circles into his back. “Are you alright, man? Breathe!” Taeyong could smell cooked food somewhere in the house. Taste the illness that still lingered in the air.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was all too much. Everything at once. He couldn’t separate the sensations.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Donghyuck wheezed. “Get off of me!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Haechan wrapped his arms tightly around his twin’s neck. “No. I’m not letting you go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At last, living and breathing became bearable again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong opened his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright there, man,” Johnny repeated. “Your eyes were being freaky and glowing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine.” Taeyong stood up. He pushed Johnny’s hot and heavy hand off of his bare skin. “I correctly performed the task.” Or at least he hoped he had. His sword, something that should have been an extension of himself, felt unfamiliar and far too heavy in his grip. It felt terribly warm and seemed to vibrate against his palm in an easy rhythm far too similar to a heartbeat. Taeyong wanted to drop the sword but could not bring himself to loosen his fingers from around the handle. It carried the curse within its metals and there was very little stopping that curse from slithering right back into Donghyuck’s body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Around him, the others still spoke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you’re alright,” said Haechan. “Now I don’t have to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was always better than you. The past couple of weeks should have given you time to catch up to me,” said Donghyuck with a sinister grin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright now,” Johnny spoke up. “It ain’t been but three minutes. Don’t you dare start arguing over dishwashing duties already.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I will go,” Taeyong sliced into their happiness. His voice was hoarse and dry like he’d been screaming.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny looked at him like he was crazy. “Don’t leave just yet. We were gonna make dinner.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong said, “I cannot accept it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, the rain’s starting back up--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s just water,” Taeyong interrupted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frantically, Johnny reached for him. “Stay. We haven’t even properly thanked you yet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Even a gift of thanks is too much for me to accept.” Taeyong peeled Johnny’s hand off of his shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny choked out, “But I--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The steely look Taeyong fixed on him made Johnny gulp and step back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man surrendered. “Do what you must.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I will.” Taeyong looked over his shoulder at the twins. Now that they were right next to each other, it was almost impossible to tell them apart. The only clue Taeyong had was that one of them had hair that clung to their forehead and temples, the locks damp with sweat. “The curse is gone,” he told the boy, “but your body will still be weak. Push past it and your strength will return.” He offered no other guidance. The procedure was done. There was no longer a place for him here, with them. Taeyong stooped down to scoop his robe off the floor, turned back around and then left the room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny followed after him and offered to lead him out of the house but Taeyong dismissed the unnecessary platitude.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could find his own way out of the small home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But, more importantly, he did not want anyone else to come in contact with the sword. With the curse that coursed through it like a living thing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tension in Taeyong’s spine didn’t ease until he was back outside in the dark, humid night. The rain fell around him in a warm, misty haze. He retraced his steps down the neon-lit street, heading for the way out. For the way back to the mountain. He shifted the sword from one hand to the other as he slipped the monk robe back over his shoulders. It did little to protect him from the rain but rain was the easiest thing in this world to ignore. Taeyong carefully tied the front of the robe closed to conceal his chest and was about to thread the blade of his sword back through the sash around his hips when he remembered to look down at it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Under the bright lights of the city, he could see more of the sword than he could back in the Paladin’s old, rickety house. Taeyong could see more of its details. It looked no different than it always had. At first glance. But the longer he stared at it, the more he was convinced he could see the swirling violet of the curse undulating across the edge of the blade. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or perhaps that was the falling rain and the city’s neon lights toying with his sight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No. He was only denying the truth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were no tricks of the light. He could plainly feel the curse’s energy as it snaked around his own ki. He could taste the rot in the air, coppery like blood on his tongue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong wondered how long he could hold the blade before it began to corrupt him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had planned to take on the weight of the curse for himself, sure, but what man truly</span>
  <em>
    <span> wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be cursed? What sane man truly desired to suffer? If Taeyong had been given such an opportunity to let go of such torment, then he should take that chance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hurled the sword away, not caring where it landed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He heard it clatter against a distant brick wall but before he could take another step, the sword handle was back in his hand. Like he’d never thrown it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Was this some illusion? Some ripple effect from the incomplete ritual?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong thrust the sword forward. Once. Twice. He leaped forward, curling his body into an effortless flip, and then landed on both feet. He swung the sword over his head in a graceful arc, spun in a tight circle and ended in The Pose Of The Swooping Peregrine, his torso forward and his knees bent. He could feel the weight of the sword in his hand. He could see the gleam of its sharp edge in the city glow. He could watch the rain ping off the blade.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was truly there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the other side of the street, some random passerby delightedly clapped at his display of skill.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong ignored them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He threw the sword again, harder than the last time, and then took off running, not even wanting to watch where the sword landed. He got several paces away with his speed. Far behind him, he heard the metal ring out as the blade hit the asphalt but he couldn’t even sigh in relief before he felt the weight of the weapon in his hand. Again. It was just… </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The metal still vibrated from the sword’s impact with the ground and Taeyong heard the low, ringing noise in his ears shape itself into the words, “Be gentle with me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But that just made Taeyong’s apprehension spike higher. He lunged forward. Swung the sword to the left, then to the right. He tossed his weight from one foot to the other, moved into a leaping kick. He landed and then leaped into the air again. Throwing his body sideways into a flip. Taeyong landed on one foot. Then he straightened his spine and held out his arms as he assumed The Pose Of The Standing Ursine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Beautiful,” his sword congratulated him. The voice was low. Clear. Unmistakable. “As expected.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong put both feet on the ground. He gripped the handle of the sword in both hands and swung the weapon hard at a metal bike rack. As expected, the ceremonial sword was no match for the sturdy structure and the blade snapped clean in two. Taeyong discarded the sword and ran harder, faster. If he could just get away. If he could just </span>
  <em>
    <span>get out</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He ignored the pedestrian light and ran straight out into the intersection.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A car came barreling towards him, bright lights flashing and horn honking, but Taeyong hopped once to get his feet up onto the car’s hood, and then hopped again, higher, to let the speeding vehicle pass by beneath him. He landed on the asphalt, safe, and kept running.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He ignored the strange looks from the crowd as he pushed his way through.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s dangerous for you here,” the voice in his head said. “They all despise the old ways. If the gangs catch sight of you--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Taeyong screamed. “Shut up shut up shut up!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re so forceful. I like that.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sword was in Taeyong’s hand again. In one solid piece. Because of course it was! He looked up towards the sky as lightning flashed, as the dog-god Doyu bared his fangs and howled from the sky. The mountain was but a murky silhouette in the east. Taeyong made a right at the next intersection and kept running.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He spotted a trash receptacle coming up on his right. He gauged the distance and chucked the sword through the air towards it. He watched it sail straight into the garbage. He heard the noise of metal clanging against metal. Taeyong ran on but as soon as he reached the end of the block, however, the sword was back in his grip. Solid. Heavy. Whole. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sword whispered to him, almost jokingly, “I am fragile. But I enjoy being broken by you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was playing with him. This was all fun and games to the thing!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong stopped running. He halted beneath the tattered awning of a gated-shut store. “Has my own body turned against me? Does my inanimate sword speak?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The voice seemed to laugh. Bell-like. Crystalline. “I am not your sword, dear monk.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And that’s when Taeyong realized the truth. It wasn’t the sword that spoke. It was the living curse that now inhabited his sword! “You are a Nightmare.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong stood there half-wheezing, soaked from head to toe with midsummer rain. This was the haunting, maddening way the curse chose to wreck his mind. He was a monk, perfectly attuned with his mind and body and spirit, yet the curse was sanding him smooth already. Wearing him down to nothing and a single hour had yet to pass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How on earth had Donghyuck put up with his quiet pain and suffering for so long?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As if reading his mind, the cursed Nightmare said, “He was but an incubator and gave me the time and space to grow.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How insidious. “Begone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We will never be apart. I have made it so.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was vague. It was a suggestion at the back of Taeyong’s mind, faded like a memory he could barely recall, but he could see the Nightmare’s face. The Nightmare’s terrifyingly </span>
  <em>
    <span>human</span>
  </em>
  <span> face. Rectangular. High cheekbones. Serious, narrow eyes. “Jaehyun,” Taeyong spoke. He did not know how he knew the name but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> know that he was correct. He could feel the Nightmare’s satisfaction with him. “Aren’t you supposed to be inhabiting my body,” Taeyong hissed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaehyun laughed again but the sound somehow wasn’t condescending or malicious. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> have infested you,” the Nightmare said, like it would have been the easiest thing to do. “But one look at you and I decided to give you something better.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Taeyong wondered what could have been better for a monk than to fulfill their purpose. What could be better for a monk than to train to remove curses, fight to combat Nightmares and then spend the rest of their days practicing, meditating, and climbing higher and higher outside of their physical bodies to observe the spirit world? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong felt like he would regret learning the answer, but he asked anyway. “What can you possibly give me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Jaehyun’s answer was immediate. “A companion.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t accept any gifts.” Taeyong sat the sword gently against the brightly-lit sign of some tawdry karaoke place. Cast into silhouette by the colorful lighting, the sword looked dark and menacing. Not the beautiful thing it should have been.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong left it behind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He walked on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If he ignored the exhaustion in his body, he could walk out of the city and make it to the base of the mountain by daybreak. He missed the monastery greatly. Now that he’d been down here in the city, now that he had seen it for himself for the first time in twenty years, he couldn’t understand why so many monks disrobed to live in a place like this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He would never forsake the mountain. He would never leave the path to enlightenment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong raised a hand to wipe rain and frustrated tears from his cheeks but quickly discovered that it would be dangerous to continue the action because he held the sword in his right hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He almost wanted to scream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am with you,” the Nightmare told him. Calmly. Reassuringly. “I am yours.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I can’t accept any--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t think of me as a gift,” the Nightmare cut him off. “Think of me as a tool to do with what you please.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Angry, Taeyong squatted low into The Pose Of The Snapping Tortoise. If he couldn’t throw the Nightmare away through physical means, he would throw the Nightmare away through spiritual means. He stretched out his right arm and balanced the blade horizontally on the back of his hand. With just the faintest of movements, he spun the sword around and around, keeping it parallel to the ground. With that momentum, he raised his arm higher and higher and allowed gravity to bring the slowly spinning blade down his arms, over his shoulders, around his neck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are not focused,” Jaehyun said. “The ki does not flow elegantly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Taeyong ignored the voice. He danced on and on. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, rotated his hips and rolled forward across the wet pavement, all without dropping the sword. It spun down the length of his back, over his hips and along his thigh. He balanced the spinning sword on his raised knee.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Jaehyun exhaled. “Now the ki flows. Now you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>moving</span>
  </em>
  <span> me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong planted his hands on the pavement behind him and rotated his body backwards to balance into a handstand. He stretched out his leg and, with absolute control, worked the spinning blade down his calf and out to his ankle. He would thrust Jaehyun out of the physical world and back into the spirit realm if it was the last thing in this body that he did. He kicked his foot upwards, sending the sword into the air. In the two or three seconds it was above him, Taeyong rolled his body backwards until his feet were back on the ground. He stood up straight, rose up on the balls of his feet, caught the sword without needing to watch the trajectory of its fall and then thrust the blade forward, ending in The Pose Of The Joyful Panda.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now his body was cleansed. Now the ki was--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I belong to you,” came Jaehyun’s response. “You cannot expel me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong knew that much at least. There was always give and take. Push and pull. Death and birth. The spirit world would allow no other form of balance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaehyun would never simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>disappear</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But Taeyong drove the sword into the miniscule spacing between sidewalk pavers and walked away regardless. Behind him, the weapon looked like some piece of mythology brought to life. A sword stuck in stone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong’s peace did not last long. He did not expect it to. He turned into a dark, damp alley between commercial buildings and was not at all surprised to feel the sword back in his hand already. He squeezed the handle tight, ready to throw it away again, but then his mind provided him with the burning, glowing outline of the exact part of Jaehyun’s body he was holding on to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Softly, Taeyong requested, “Will you show yourself to me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought you would never ask.” But the voice didn’t come from the odd ringing sound in Taeyong’s head. It came from the air in front of him. Full of bass. Full of life. Full of fire.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong’s eyes only took a blink to adjust to the pitch darkness of the alley. Standing right in front of him was a man. A handsome man. He had such a sharp jawline. Such heavy-looking lips. He had long, dark hair that partially hid his forehead in shadow. Jaehyun was clearly naked from head to toe and his body was corded through with solid muscle. His skin glowed like moonlight in the dark alley. He looked so… human. But the uncanny violet brightness of his eyes betrayed the Nightmarish ferocity beneath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why do you look like that,” Taeyong asked. Because he had participated in numerous rituals. He had seen what Nightmares looked like and the beasts were given such a hideous name for good reason.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaehyun simply smiled. “I borrowed this form from one of your dreams.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Every part of me,” Jaehyun kept on, “is something you dreamed up. Something you conjured while you pleased yourself at night.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong frowned. He knew his own body, his own mind, his own spirit. He had evolved far beyond such base, carnal desires. He had dreamed up no such thing!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do I please you,” Jaehyun asked. And there was something in his voice, something in his face, that made him seem genuinely worried about Taeyong’s answer. As if it would actually break him if Taeyong refused him. “Do I?” And then he stepped closer. Too close.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong stepped away from him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaehyun visibly hesitated. He attempted to keep his face stoic and blank but his eyes exposed the hurt deep inside of him. “I am your dream,” he said. “I am yours.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t Taeyong’s dream. He wasn’t Taeyong’s at all. He was but an abomination. A curse wearing a human’s body!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong dropped his sword. Before it even hit the pavement, he was thrusting his fists forward. He moved through his stances like he was sparring with his mentors. Right hook, left hook, right hook like a Furious Tiger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was as if Jaehyun expected the assault. Without even grunting in effort, he met Taeyong’s movements with equal strength. He folded his arms or raised his knees to block each strike. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong did not ease up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stepped forward. Left knee, right knee, roundhouse kick like the Prancing Peacock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaehyun ducked beneath Taeyong’s kick and hopped backward. But before Taeyong could start his next string of attacks, Jaehyun was on him. Elbow, knee, knee, straight. Taeyong bobbed and weaved, he spun away from Jaehyun’s arms and legs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong saw an opening and launched himself at it. High kick, high kick, jumping high kick like the dance of the Graceful Crane.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I already know that you are perfect for me,” Jaehyun told him, catching Taeyong’s right ankle in both of his hands. “You do not have to prove yourself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a challenge to keep his mind blank and calm but Taeyong somehow managed. He jumped in the air and spun himself into a lateral flip to free his ankle from Jaehyun’s grip. No sooner than his feet were back on the ground, he was stomping forward, pressing Jaehyun’s back towards the brick wall. Elbow, elbow, uppercut like the Marching Elephant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaehyun moved like water. Like shadows. He ducked away from Taeyong’s fists and spun towards a more open part of the alley. When he launched himself at Taeyong, his arms swung through the air like swords and even though Taeyong blocked each blow, he felt the impact on his skin like he’d been cut.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This wasn’t like sparring with his mentor on the mountaintop. This was a fight for his life! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong evened out his breaths and lowered the rate of his pounding heart. Then he used his improved focus to speed up his fists and feet, smearing his limbs into inhumanly fast blurs of movement. Jab, jab, hook. Elbow, knee, high kick. The Snapping Turtle. The Rising Phoenix.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaehyun kept up with him. He, too, seemed to be an expert in martial arts, Taeyong’s equal in every shape and fashion, but where Taeyong fought with closed fists, Jaehyun fought with open palms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong’s focus slipped momentarily and Jaehyun capitalized on it by grabbing Taeyong by the neck. His fingers dug harshly into Taeyong’s throat, immediately cutting off his airway. Jaehyun kicked the monk’s feet out from under him and then, with surprising and sudden tenderness, lowered Taeyong down onto his back on the wet pavement like tucking a child into bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why can’t I…” Taeyong choked out. He sucked in a gulp of air and squinted through his exhaustion and dizziness until he found Jaehyun’s face above him. “Why can’t I destroy you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finger by finger, Jaehyun released his hold on Taeyong’s throat. “What is a Nightmare without a Dreamer?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The words made little sense to Taeyong, though he was certain it was a philosophical question that he’d been asked some time before during guided meditations. Taeyong looked to his left and then to his right, then to his left again. He finally spotted his sword, but the handle was too far away for him to reach. He tried to roll towards it, but Jaehyun put a heavy hand on his chest and flattened him back to the ground.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaehyun swung a leg across Taeyong’s hips and easily straddled him. Easily pinned him still. Jaehyun used his free hand to undo the cloth that tied Taeyong’s robe closed. “Can’t you feel it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The question was vague. Open-ended.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong could feel a hundred things. His anger at never being able to take the upper hand. His humiliation at being laid flat on his back like he was some beginner. His frustration at realizing how terribly he’d failed at performing the ritual. His tiredness as his days of walking caught up with him. Most terribly of all, he could feel the lingering heat of Jaehyun’s palm as it dragged circles across Taeyong’s chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can’t you feel me,” Jaehyun asked. “Can’t you feel our unbreakable connection?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong shut his eyes. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> feel Jaehyun. The naked man’s weight across his hips. The naked man’s thighs squeezing his sides. The naked man’s breath on his neck. The naked man’s thick, curved length lightly sliding across Taeyong’s heaving, sweaty stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaehyun unnecessarily lowered his voice. “Can’t you feel me inside of you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong bit his bottom lip. Oh, how easily he lost focus and let himself imagine! Oh, how easily he let himself be tempted! Taeyong tensed, ready to resist with all of his might, but then he better understood the question he had been asked. He better understood Jaehyun’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>meaning</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could feel his own ki inside of his body. Sturdy. Smooth. Gold.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could also feel Jaehyun’s corrupted ki. Swirling. Jagged. Violet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong recalled his teachings. What a curse was supposed to do was </span>
  <em>
    <span>spread</span>
  </em>
  <span>. A curse was supposed to eat and eat and fill itself and </span>
  <em>
    <span>consume</span>
  </em>
  <span> until it birthed another curse and the cycle began anew.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong could feel Jaehyun. Yes. But he couldn’t feel Jaehyun consuming him. He couldn’t feel Jaehyun eating away at him. Corrupting him. Infesting him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was as if they were coexisting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaehyun leaned forward, pressing more and more of his body to Taeyong’s. He leaned towards Taeyong’s ear and breathily whispered, “Don’t you understand? You can’t contain me. I can’t consume you. Isn’t that wonderful?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were parasites that couldn't feed off of each other. Instead, they stood side by side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It went against the balance of the world. It openly shunned the harmony of energy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong could feel his own ki in his body. He could feel Jaehyun’s ki filling the gaps that remained. He was so incomprehensibly </span>
  <em>
    <span>full</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Still where there was always supposed to be movement. Give and take. Push and pull. Ebb and flow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong felt complete.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Such knowledge went against everything Taeyong knew. Everything that he’d been taught by the monks. “Is it possible,” he croaked out, “for one human being to wield two colors of ki?” When he opened his eyes, Jaehyun was leaning immediately over him. Their noses nearly touched. Their mouths were so close that they shared air. Jaehyun’s eyes stared straight into his as if he did not want to miss a thing. “Is it possible,” Taeyong said, moving his lips as minimally as possible to reduce the chance that their mouths would touch, “for one human being to wield both the physical and the spiritual?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaehyun smiled at him. “Don’t you want to see?” He shifted his hips in a none-too-subtle gesture to remind Taeyong of his nakedness. “Don’t you want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>use</span>
  </em>
  <span> me and find out?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the temptation was strong. If Taeyong really could harness both colors of ki, his mastery of martial arts would surpass his mentors. His accomplishments would surpass the monastery’s Great Teacher. In fact, he would probably be appointed as Great Teacher himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He would have so much power at his actual fingertips! So much energy. Gold and violet. Violet and gold. Never one succumbing to the other. But both equally.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong’s might would be immense.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But what would a monk do with such godly strength? What would such power be used for? What aspirations could a monk possibly have outside of seeking the peace of nirvana? “No,” Taeyong whispered. He raised a hand and pushed on Jaehyun’s shoulder until the man leaned back and gave him room to sit up. “I don’t want your power.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaehyun remained seated on Taeyong’s lap. Solid and unmoving. “You do not want it. But you will need it. Desperately. Again and again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s that supposed to mean,” Taeyong questioned. He kept his eyes on Jaehyun’s sweaty, smiling face so that he wouldn’t have to look at the rest of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was part of the oracle, remember? I lived inside of him and saw the same visions of the future he saw. This city will go up in flames, Taeyong. It will all be burned to the ground as the government and the gangs retaliate against each other.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I’m supposed to stop that,” Taeyong asked. A shiver went up his spine as he felt part of Jaehyun’s body slide against his stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Jaehyun said. He wrapped an arm around Taeyong’s neck. “You aren’t supposed to do anything. But the two of us together can change the world.” And that tiny little smirk of his made such a statement sound like a disaster. A beautiful, wondrous disaster.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I can’t throw away my beliefs.” Taeyong had to at least pretend to resist. “I can’t sink to their levels of violence and hatred.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaehyun’s mouth brushed against the sensitive, sweaty skin of Taeyong’s neck. “You can remain righteous.” His voice sank an octave. “Let </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> be the monster.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And there was a very high possibility that something like that wasn’t a good idea.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then Taeyong remembered something. The curse had been transferred to Donghyuck purposefully. Someone in the city had intended for the oracle to fall to the Nightmare’s whims. They had unnaturally manipulated ki to do it. Taeyong asked, “Who made you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaehyun leaned forward. Closer. Closer still. He whispered a single, unfamiliar name into Taeyong’s ear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Taeyong had spent the majority of his life isolated on the mountaintop. That name could belong to anyone. To any corrupt politician. To any of the leaders of the biker gangs. To any poor sap on the street.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who is that?” Taeyong asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaehyun responded, “I don’t know. I only know their name.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong could usually do a lot with a name but he couldn’t do anything with just this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaehyun pulled his arm from around Taeyong’s neck and dragged his palm across the top of Taeyong’s nearly-hairless scalp. “If you want to know who that is--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have to use you,” Taeyong cut him off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaehyun chuckled. “I am yours. Always. Forever. If there is information that I know, I will tell you. We don’t have to fuck secrets out of each other.” A light touch across the shell of Taeyong’s ear. “Unless you wish it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And hearing it so vulgarly stated made Taeyong’s cheeks flush red. He got the conversation back on track. “How can we find the person that name belongs to?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you ask someone who knows?” Jaehyun guided him along, as if he needed Taeyong to piece it together on his own. “Who do you know that would be familiar with such a name?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No one on the mountaintop would know. Which meant-- “Johnny.” Taeyong sat up a little more, forgetting that quickly how close they sat and bringing their lips only a hair’s width apart. “The twins?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaehyun pressed their mouths together. Quickly. Wetly. He pulled away. “You can take me back to the monastery, you know,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eye. “And I will do my best to be quiet and… and obedient… while you meditate and hide me from your teachers. Or…” He pressed their mouths together again, one hand firmly clutched the nape of Taeyong’s neck. “You can use me. Over and over again. Until you’re strong enough to fight the person that name is attached to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And laid out side by side like that, Taeyong felt like there was only one correct choice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t go back to solitary monkhood after all of this, could he? His teachings had taught him that he couldn’t just sit and watch the world turn to rot yet that was what the Great Teacher and his followers did. They had all forsaken their purpose out of something human and conquerable like </span>
  <em>
    <span>fear</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong would not remain afraid. He would return to the twins and find out who that name belonged to. “I will fight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaehyun leaned back. “Good. This is why you’re so, so good for me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then the naked Nightmare was gone. Just like that. In less than a blink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong looked down and saw the ceremonial sword in his hand. He accepted it now. He would never be able to leave it. He would only be able to carry it with him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But monks were acclimated to throwing burdens away. Not taking burdens along with them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But monks were also trained to overcome obstacles and Jaehyun would not be difficult to climb. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The monk would fight - to defend the twins and the city the two of them held dear. He would fight for peace. For enlightenment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong stood up and walked towards the mouth of the alley. He could only hope he would find his way back to the oracles and their last remaining Paladin. He could only hope that such a small group would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>enough</span>
  </em>
  <span> to change things. To save things. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong slotted the sword through the sash wrapped around his hip. This time, when he released the handle, the weapon did not jump back into his hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaehyun’s words hummed into his mind: “Right where I’m supposed to be.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://curiouscat.qa/TheSwingbyJHF">cc</a>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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